Bad Blood
by azurewave
Summary: Destroy the desire, for that of which is impossible,and accept what you get with a smile." - Sirius/OC


Chapter One  
**Bitter**  
_It's peaceful, the pitch black, when the last light on goes out.

* * *

_

"You are exactly like them, _Ace_. Who would have known?"

I snapped back, furious, "My name is not Ace. My name is _Aceline_."

Sirius Black, with a smirk, brushed his dark hair away from his eyes. He replied, snidely, "Of course."

"Yeah, of course!" I took a step towards him, glaring up and locking his piercing grey eyes, "It means 'of noble birth'." I hoped it would get him. If it did, he didn't show it.

"Oh, right," He said sardonically, "Aceline Marie Burke. Noble," Sirius clenched his fists, "_pure-blood_," He crinkled his nose, repulsed "birth." Sirius challenged me, taking a step closer. I gripped the banister, digging my nails into the ageing wood, and tried to round up to his height. I was tall, but he was far taller. His nose was almost touching mine and I set my jaw. We hadn't been this close for more than a split second since we were children. The candle flickered, casting our shadows on the grey wall behind us. It almost looked like we were embracing.

"At least _I_ maintained my blood-status," I spat every syllable at him, desperately wanting him to flinch, "You came from it too, Sirius; you can't mock me. This. Is. What. You. Are." I made sure every hissed word was loud and clear enough to pierce him. I made sure every letter held a bite, searching his eyes for a hint of pain. A hint of something.

Sirius gripped my shoulder, pushing me backwards. This wasn't a attempt to hurt me; it looked like he wanted to pass. I rooted my feet into the sandpaper carpet, rough against the soles of my feet, "I'm a blood traitor, remember?" Sirius let a grin pass over his sculpted cheeks. His eyes didn't move from mine. They were steely, mocking. He seemed delighted to have that _term_ taint him, relishing it. I didn't understand.

"You're happy about that?" I gave a jeer of a laugh, even though nothing about this situation held an inch of remote hilarity. I couldn't deal with being this close to him; I could feel his quivering breath rattling in his chest. I paused, breaking eye contact, "Are you happy about being a _blood-traitor_?"

"I am." Sirius' voice was calm, hushed. He was suddenly serious; there was no trace of malice in his voice. There was something sincere … and it unnerved me. "I am _so_ happy. I am happier than you will ever be." This wasn't a threat. He spoke it as if it was a fact, "You can keep your blood-status, and you can keep your nobility." He paused again, speaking delicately, "I never thought, though, that you would listen to all of their vindictive crap." Sirius touched my cheek with his thumb, tracing my skin lightly with his fingertips. A memory flashed through my head. I blinked it away.

"I am my own person, Sirius." It was supposed to sound harsh, perhaps strong. Definitively defensive. It didn't. It sounded cracked, broken, and meaningless. _Perhaps it was?_

"It sounds like you are trying to convince yourself." Sirius bowed his head slightly, darkness enveloping the majority of his face. He raised his eyes, meeting mine, "Don't call me Sirius. You speak as if you know me."

I flinched. _I knew you, once._

It was like he read my mind, "That was forever ago, Aceline." It sounded offhand, and casual. It was like this conversation wasn't doing anything to hurt him. I was as meaningless as the weather, as the grey walls that surrounded us. I pressed my palm against the wall, steadying myself. I inhaled deeply. Sirius gave a low chuckle.

A surge of anger, of strength, ripped through me, "What else should I call you? Black?" I let out a dark cackle of laughter again. I sounded insane, "You don't deserve that name. Perhaps I should call you Potter. It won't be long before you two are married, and can have _disgusting_, _blood-traitor _babies-"

"I'd say something about your friends," Sirius lifted his head up and said simply, "But you have none." Sirius half-smirked, the right side of his mouth curving upwards in ridicule. He turned, leaving me standing there in my long, white nightgown. The flame of the candle quivered again. As he walked away, he turned fluidly and said loudly, "Did you know that 'Marie' means bitter?"

Yeah. I did.

I didn't see a smirk this time. Sorrow clouded his features, that I'd once known so well. I remembered counting the few freckles that speckled his cheeks in the summer. I followed him, unsure why, with the same wide-eyed curiosity that I had when we were young. The thin satin of material I wore made me shiver. Sirius watched me, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. He picked up the candle, which continued to flicker.

I walked past him, reaching the door to his room. He realised what I was doing and darted forward to stop me, panic in his eyes. It was too late. I flung open the door, turning over my shoulder to look at him with a triumphant smirk of my own; on his bed was a suitcase. It was open. I could see some items of clothing, some school books, some parchment. That stupid hand mirror he always carried around was at the very top. There wasn't much elsein the suitcase…

"Eloping with Potter?"

Sirius gasped my shoulder, pushing me backwards. The candle fell to the floor, enveloping us in near-darkness as the flame burnt out. The only source of light was the moon, casting an eerie glow over our faces through the open window.

"Forget you saw this."

"Ooh. I'm right aren't I?" I started to walk away. He lunged for me, pushing me to the ground. He was almost on top of me, his breath hot on cheek. I struggled to get up.

"I turned of age yesterday."

"So?" I hissed back, "Why should I care?"

"I'm not asking you to care," He let go of me, "I'm asking you to be human for once in your pathetic life." He looked at me, his eyes pleading, "Forget you saw this."

He got to his feet, turning his back on me. I opened my mouth to speak. He lit the candle back up with his wand, his fleece riding up his arms and catching on his elbow. The candle light illuminated shining-red cuts. They were deep.

I suddenly felt sick. I asked softly, "How did they--?"

"Apparently, I don't deserve the blood of the Blacks." Sirius' laugh was hollow.

"They… they did that?" For the first time, I was scared.

"Don't pretend you care. Just shut up about it."

I flushed scarlet, "What had coming to age got to do with it?"

Sirius looked at me, "I'm old enough to kill them and fight back without getting kicked out of school. They fancy beating me to it."

He picked up the candle, walking from the hallway and shutting his door. He left me in darkness. I sat outside his room for the rest of the night, my fingertips on the door-frame tracing his name numbly. I felt a tear trickle down my cheek. He didn't come out again. He made no noise, other than the faint hum of his flying motorbike. As he left, I felt an odd sense of loss. It was like everything I knew had a flaw. It was the first time I decided to open my eyes and see that they were wrong. I thought about it. _I really thought about it._

My blood-line was pure and – therefore – better and more worthy of magic than muggles and blood traitors and other filth. I knew what was to be expected of me. I was a pure-blood. Toujours pur. Always pure.

But... _why_?

AN.

Please R&R to tell me what you think, even if it's critique or just one word! Lyrics by Bright Eyes.


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